


through the chaos and the noise

by LiveLaughLovex



Category: Quantico (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, Ignores Post-Graduation Storyline, Not Post-Graduation Compliant, Post-Season/Series 01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-27 12:55:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18194861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLaughLovex/pseuds/LiveLaughLovex
Summary: She always thought she’d get used to it, bearing witness to the victims of the darkest acts any human being could ever commit. The sinking feeling in her stomach made her come to the realization that that idea was the product of wishful thinking.





	through the chaos and the noise

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I have no clue how the FBI works. They don't exactly go into insane detail, so basically I'm just going with what I've gotten from Bones, which really isn't all that helpful, considering they had jurisdiction over literally everything. That being said, I do know the Bureau investigates hate crimes. I don't know which ones fall under their jurisdiction - again, very vague - but it is on their website, so that's what I've gone with. Just - please ignore my complete ignorance, all right? I'm a History major, here. 
> 
> The title comes from Maren Morris's "Dear Hate." Translations for the foreign phrases sprinkled throughout can be found at the bottom. Sorry if I've butchered them; I did the best I could with Google Translate.

Abebi Okafor was murdered on a blisteringly hot Thursday in late July. She was on her way home from an afternoon summer course at the City College of New York when it happened. She was stabbed by an unknown attacker, then left to bleed to death on the blazing sidewalk. She spent her last moments alone and in pain, begging for help from people unable to give it. Needless to say, this was not a case Special Agent Alexandra Parrish was going to forget any time soon.

She always thought she’d get used to it, bearing witness to the victims of the darkest acts any human being could ever commit. As she watched the young girl’s body being carted away by the coroner, the sinking feeling in her stomach made her come to the realization that that idea was entirely the product of wishful thinking.

Detective Sergeant Sean Brady was someone she’d dealt with many times in the past. He was with the Special Victims’ Unit, so cases such as this one fell under his jurisdiction before being declared hate crimes and officially falling under hers. He was at the scene when she arrived. The grim look on his face as she approached suggested to her she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“Victim is Abebi Okafor, eighteen,” he informed her bleakly. “She immigrated from Abuja a month ago, has lived in this neighborhood ever since. Came to study at the City College. According to her roommate, she wanted to be an anthropologist.” Alex noticed the way Brady was barely able to get the words out, remembered he had two young daughters of his own at home. “Her family has been informed. Mother’s on the first flight over.”

Alex nodded. “All right, thanks. Any witnesses?”

“One,” Brady reported moodily, nodding to a very shaken-looking woman being calmed by several paramedics a hundred or so yards away. “She’s a lawyer, was only in the area to visit a client. Thank God she was, because if all we had to rely on was the residents of this neighborhood, we’d know less than we do now.”

“Right, yeah, the _Duhu Rãyuka_ are pretty prominent in this area, right?” Alex shook her head when the sergeant simply nodded. “I’m guessing talking to the cops isn’t something they look on fondly.”

“Not even if it helps one of their own,” Brady confirmed. “Sorry, Parrish, but you’re not going to be getting much help from anyone without a badge on this one. Just the way things work here.”

“Yeah.” Alex gestured over to their witness. “What’s she saying about what she saw?”

“She got a look at the attacker. Not enough for a sketch, but plenty for a description. Dark-haired Caucasian male, six feet, two-seventy. Was wearing light-wash jeans and a black shirt. Used racial slurs.” Brady glanced away. “New York City in the twenty-first century, and there’s still bastards out there unable to accept any sort of diversity.” He shook his head.

“Well, they’re outnumbered,” Alex assured him. “You used to walk the beat in this part of town, right? Do you know anything about who’s running the gang these days?”

“Yeah. Balarabe Rabiu, twenty-three. Moved here two decades ago with his parents, naturalized at eighteen. Lives just up the street. But you’re not going to get much out of him,” Brady warned. “He turns into a brick wall the second cops come knocking.”

“Well, come on, Brady, it’s hardly like he’ll be the first. You want to tag along?” Alex offered. “Saito’s not supposed to be back from Newark ’til this afternoon.”

“Sure,” Brady agreed. “If only to keep you from getting yourself killed. I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, Parrish, but you’re in the habit of pissing off all the wrong people.”

“Trust me, Brady, if I’m pissing them off, I know exactly who they are. I’m driving.”

“It’s literally – it’s a five-minute walk, Parrish.”

“Yeah, which makes it, what, a two-minute drive? At most?” Alex pointed out. “Come on. Saito never lets me drive.”

“I am so glad I decided against Quantico,” Brady muttered under his breath, following her to the car despite his protests.

“Why? Afraid you can’t keep up with us _girls?_ ” Alex teased, sliding behind the wheel.

“I don’t think anyone could keep up with the two of you, honestly. God help me when my girls get older.” Brady settled in the passenger seat and buckled his seatbelt. “Please don’t run us into anyone, Parrish.”

“Your lack of faith is both noted and unappreciated.” Alex put the car in Drive, ignoring the way her friend gripped the door handle so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Brady was right about Balarabe Rabiu. The man very nearly slammed the door on Alex’s foot. He also referred to her as a _karuwa_ more than a few times. Alex might not know exactly what the word meant, but the way he said it told her enough to know she should most definitely take it as an insult.

“This my neighborhood,” Rabiu snapped in broken English. “There no need for _datti aladu_ in my neighborhood.”

“Mr. Rabiu, I don’t give a damn whose neighborhood this is,” Alex replied bluntly. “A girl who lived down the street is now in the downtown morgue. I want to find the bastard who put her there. That is _all_.”

“That too much,” Rabiu returned. “She dead. What more you need to know?”

“This isn’t like back home, Mr. Rabiu. Here, murders don’t go unsolved. Not if we can help it.” Alex removed her card from the pocket of her slacks. “If you remember anything, or you talk to someone who does, please feel free to give me a call. I’ll make sure to tell the receptionist your name.”

“I won’t be using it,” Rabiu assured them.

“Understood. Just so you know, though, this girl, Abebi, she was someone’s little sister. Five older brothers, in fact. You know something about being a big brother, don’t you, Balarabe? After all, you practically raised Durrah.”

The man’s eyes narrowed to slits at the mention of his sister’s name. “What you know of her?” he demanded.

“I know you’ve sacrificed everything you possibly can to make sure she gets the best this world has to offer. So, really, no matter how dark you consider your soul, it’s still there, isn’t it?” With that, she headed for the door, Brady trailing behind her.

“She’s not going to know anything,” Brady told her before the doors of the car had even closed behind them. “He might be a cold-blooded snake, but you’re right. There’s not a thing he would refuse to do, not if it meant keeping that kid safe. I doubt she even knows he’s involved with the gang, let alone that he runs it.”

“Yeah, Brady, I know how big brothers and little sisters work,” Alex informed him, pulling away from the apartment. “Ryan has three of them. I didn’t bring Durrah up as a threat. I brought her up because I’m pretty sure she’s one of the only people on this planet that Rabiu would die for. Perhaps reminding him where he came from will remind him that he’s at least a little human.”

“Oh.” Brady paused. “Good tactic, then.”

“Yup. I’ll drop you back off at the scene, yeah?” Alex offered.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

She did just that before heading into the office. Before she could even reach the parking lot, however, another call came in.

“We’ve got another body,” Callaghan informed her forbiddingly. “Femi Abimbola, 22. A jogger in Jackson Heights found her about fifteen minutes ago. And Parrish? This case just got a whole hell of a lot messier.”

Alex’s blood, which had already run cold, completely froze. “What do you mean?”

“Abimbola is the girlfriend of Balarabe Rabiu. According to Gangs, he’s already put a hit out on the person responsible.”

“Does he have any idea who it is?” Alex asked desperately.

“No idea. Which means that if we don’t manage to track this person down ourselves…”

“The Duhu Rãyuka will turn this borough into a warzone before sundown,” Alex finished her boss’s thought. “They’ll start shooting indiscriminately. We’ll be looking at dozens of bodies by tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah,” Callaghan agreed grimly. “We need to stop that from happening. Do what you’ve got to do, Parrish. There’s no way in hell I’m going to let my city start looking like Kandahar.”

“Understood.” Alex ended the call, then stared down at the phone for a moment, thankful she’d at least managed to get pulled over before that particular conversation went down. She shook her head and drew in a deep breath. “I should’ve listened to my mother and just gone into banking,” she said to herself before pulling back onto the road and proceeding to work.

 

-o-o-o-o-

 

“Both girls were from Nigeria, both girls came over in the past four years,” Alex muttered to her partner, staring at the information in front of her with squinted eyes. “That’s the only connection between them.”

“Really?” Saito asked dubiously. “Nothing else?”

“Saito, one victim was an honors student who wanted to be a forensic anthropologist, the other was the girlfriend of a gang leader,” Alex reminded her friend. “There’s nothing else that connects them. Yeah, there’s the neighborhood, but Femi was murdered in Jackson Heights, remember?”

“So, what, some racist bastard’s out there shooting people just because he can?” Saito scoffed in disgust. “America in the twenty-first century.”

“Yes, I know. It’s disgusting.” Alex sighed. “If we don’t find this bastard, though, Rabiu is going to let loose another one. Let’s hit Jackson Heights. I’m pretty sure the gangs don’t run the part of town where _this_ girl was found, at least. Maybe we’ll manage to get something out of somebody that gets us something the last witness wasn’t able to tell us.”

“When we find this guy, I’m probably going to punch him in the face,” Saito informed her. “There. That’s your warning.”

“Hey, Han, this is one instance where I’ll have no issue turning my back,” Alex assured her, tossing the keys over as they made their way to the elevator.

The first possible witness they met with in Jackson Heights was Adaolisa Adeyemi. A law student at Columbia, she was a well-known individual to most law enforcement, mostly because they’d been called to her residence multiple times the previous year after a sociopathic ex refused to take no for an answer. Fortunately, she was one of the only people on the street who had lacked preconceived opinions about both Alex and Saito, which was the reason they turned to her immediately.

“Femi was my friend,” Adaolisa informed them tearfully, blotting at her face with the tissue Alex had snatched from a nearby table. “We were roommates during my junior year, before she met Rabiu. Why would someone do this to her? She was always so kind.”

“Adaolisa, we believe this person is targeting African immigrants,” Alex informed the younger woman gently. “In less than twelve hours, two women from Nigeria have been killed. That’s a pattern. It’s very likely that Femi was killed simply because she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“ _Chineke naputa anyi_ ,” Adaolisa muttered, staring down at her lap. “What must run through this man’s veins rather than blood? He cannot be human.”

“No,” Alex murmured sympathetically. “He’s not. Not even close. Adaolisa, we have a few questions, if that’s okay.” She smiled sadly when Adaolisa nodded jerkily. “Has there been anyone around that made you feel uneasy? Someone that made you suspicious, even if it was nothing more than gut instinct?”

“No, no,” Adaolisa insisted. “You must understand, Agent Parrish, that this is not a neighborhood where judgements are passed. Femi and I, we come from different people, different areas, but we were still the best of friends. That is how we all are. It is not someone we know that has done this, I am sure of it.”

“All right,” Alex agreed. “Okay. The other witness told us the man was white, tall, dark hair. Do you remember seeing anyone like that around lately? Maybe just someone you passed on the street?”

“Yes,” Adaolisa recalled. “Femi and I, we sometimes have lunch with friends down the street. It is nice to have distance from our lives, from all that separates us, you see. Just last week, we had a waiter, he fit that description perfectly. And I – Agent Parrish, I have taken Abebi there, too.”

“You knew Abebi?” Alex asked, slightly surprised by the revelation. Adaolisa had been outspoken about her friendship with Femi, but there’d been no mention of the other victim until that very moment.

“Not well,” Adaolisa admitted sheepishly. “Our mothers, they were friends as girls. Mama, she asked me to look after Abebi when she came. I did not do a good job, did I?”

“This isn’t on you, Adaolisa,” Saito assured her sternly. “This waiter, does he still work there?”

“Yes. He was there when I came by yesterday morning. Very angry-looking, this man. He muttered to himself the entire time I was there. He – he was happy to see me go. I never thought he’d hurt my friend, though.” Adaolisa sniffled. “The accent and the – the color of my skin, they bring out the cruelty many people carry within. It has always been words, though, nothing more. This man is a monster, is he not?”

“Maybe,” Alex admitted. “Look, Adaolisa, this person, whoever he is, is targeting people from Nigeria. That means that, unfortunately, you’re in danger. Some agents are going to come and stay with you, okay? They’re going to keep you safe, I promise.”

Adaolisa nodded, drawing in a deep breath. “Please, stop him,” she pleaded. “We came here to be safe. This cannot keep happening.”

Unsurprisingly, both Alex and Saito thought the same thing.

“Let’s go to this diner down the street,” Alex suggested as they made their way out of the woman’s apartment. “See if the owners know anything about our mystery man.”

The diner down the street belonged to Irish immigrants Eoghan and Niamh Rooney. Niamh greeted them with a smile, having seen them in the area when they were working other cases. “Agents,” she said politely. “How can I help you?”

“We’re investigating a case,” Alex explained, smiling at the shy little boy peering out from behind his mother’s legs. “There were two immigrant women from Nigeria killed in the last twelve hours.”

“I have heard,” Niamh murmured, shaking her head. “It is so horrible. Done by a monster, this thing. These girls, though, I pray for them. _Bealtaine Dia glac leis iad._ ”

Alex nodded, not knowing what to say. She’d seen people lie through their teeth dozens, if not hundreds, of times since beginning her work with the Bureau. The woman before her, however, wasn’t lying. She had no idea what was going on in her own diner. And, based on the look in her eyes, finding out was most likely going to destroy her.

“A mutual friend of theirs, Adaolisa Adeyemi, she told us she brought them both here,” Saito told the other woman. “Their waiter, he matches the description provided by a witness to the first murder, and he – well, based on what we’ve been told, he fits the profile, as well. Um, would you happen to know this waiter’s name, and where he is?”

“Of course. That’s Connor Crews,” Niamh whispered, emerald eyes widening in shock. “He lives a few doors down, with his mother. But – he’s no longer in our employ. He has said some things to my husband, some truly awful things. Eoghan refused to have such a prejudiced boy making money from him, so he let him go last week.”

“What sort of things did he say, Niamh?” Alex asked, sure she didn’t want to know the answer.

Niamh’s lower lip trembled. “That this land was not ours, that it never would be, that it was his ancestors who worked for it and therefore only he who should benefit from it. But ma’am, these remarks of his make no sense.”

That was the thing about white supremacists, Alex thought darkly. They often made so little sense that they were unable to even see their lack of logic for themselves.

“We need to call Callaghan,” Saito muttered as they made their way out. “We don’t let her in on this, she’s going to kick our asses.”

That was likely very true. The others would probably be equally pissed, too. They were all first-generation Americans on one side or the other. No matter how much they attempted to retain their professionalism, it was no secret that this one was more than a little personal.

 

-o-o-o-o-

 

Connor Crews said many things in interrogation, none of them worth repeating – or hearing the first time around, honestly. Callaghan kicked them out of the office the very second he had confessed to both murders. Alex, like any sane person, went home, planning to sleep. Instead, she found herself staring up at the ceiling and pondering how, this many years in, so many people could still be awful to their fellow man.

It amazed her, the knowledge that her week had gone downhill so insanely quickly. She’d been in California the previous weekend, spending pretty much every waking moment with Ryan, and it’d been the highlight of her month, if not her year. And now, here she was, back to being surrounded by the sort of ugliness she’d joined the Bureau to prevent.

Ryan had offered to take a job in D.C. to be closer to her, but she’d told him not to. Despite her best efforts, it was impossible to forget how much she’d put him through the first time around, the oh-so-many sacrifices she’d asked him to make when he’d very rarely requested she do the same, choosing to love her as she was instead of asking her to change, no matter how hard that proved to be on his heart. She couldn’t ask him to continue to throw himself under the bus to keep her from having to compromise. More than that, she didn’t want to.

The phone on the pillow next to her began ringing while she was still lost in thought. It was nothing short of a miracle that she managed to get to it before the caller on the other end decided to consider her a lost cause and give up. Then again, it wasn’t like the caller was ever going to give up on her. Not even when she was pretty sure she deserved it.

“Hey,” Ryan said jovially when she answered. “I have a nephew.”

Alex laughed openly at that, blinking back tears at the sheer happiness in his tone. “After seven nieces. How’s Gwen doing?”

“She’s great,” Ryan assured her. “She’s great.”

“Good,” Alex murmured. “That’s – it’s good. I’m glad.” She drew in a deep breath, surprising even herself when she released it shakily several seconds later.

“What’s up?” Ryan questioned, concerned.

“Nothing,” she assured him. “I just – I had a hard day at work, that’s all.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. We got the guy. It’s just – I start thinking I’ve seen the worst people have to offer, that I don’t have any more faith in humanity left to lose, and then boom, there’s a guy killing immigrant women because he thinks he has more of a right to exist in this country than they do. I just…” Alex scoffed, shaking her head. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this, that’s all. I used to feel like I was making some sort of difference, but I’m not, really. Am I? Because it just – it keeps happening, day after day, week after week. Nothing ever changes. Nothing ever stops.”

“You’re making a difference,” Ryan promised her. “To the families of those girls, to Giovanni Gaetano’s little sister, to everyone who gets to live a sheltered life because you’re out there. You make a difference. You do enough.”

“Yeah.” Alex inhaled deeply. “I was offered a job down there.”

“Down where? Down here?” Ryan asked incredulously. “When?”

“Last week. It wasn’t really something I was considering, but I just – I’m burning out here, Ryan. I’m not even two years out of Quantico, and I’m contemplating giving it all up to go flip burgers.”

“Hey, if you want to regain your faith in humanity, I don’t think going into customer service is going to help you much. If anything, it’ll make things worse.” Ryan paused, waiting for her response and sighing when she remained silent. “You want to take the job?”

“Yeah,” Alex admitted, her voice no more than a murmur. “I do.”

“Then take the job.”

“What, simple as that?” Alex laughed in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Ryan shrugged. “Simple as that.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “I’ll take the job.”

“Good.” Ryan smiled. “You do realize my mother’s going to want to meet you now.”

“One life change at a time, please,” Alex pleaded.

“She’s not the boogie man,” he laughed.

“Hey, I am an emotionally damaged woman. To me, caring mothers are even more terrifying than the boogie man.”

“I won’t tell her you said that.”

“That’s probably for the best.” Alex fell silent for several seconds. “Hey, Ryan?”

“Yeah.”

“How do you always know what to say?”

She could hear the smile in his voice when he replied. “I don’t. I just know you.”

“Oh,” she murmured. “I think that might be even better.”

**Author's Note:**

> Duhu Rãyuka – Dark Souls   
> Karuwa – whore  
> Datti aladu – dirty pigs   
> Chineke naputa anyi – God save us/God deliver us.   
> Bealtaine Dia glac leis iad – May God accept them.


End file.
